


Rainwater Lungs

by overwhelmingly_awesome



Series: Prompts and Prompts and Prompts [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Noah's Ark, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overwhelmingly_awesome/pseuds/overwhelmingly_awesome
Summary: Aziraphale finds Crowley on the ark during the Great Flood, crumpled in a heap of anger and exhaustion. Crowley is armed with his ever familiar question: why?Aziraphale doesn't know the answer.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Prompts and Prompts and Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750039
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	Rainwater Lungs

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second part of my prompts series! I've had this one burning a hole in my back pocket for about a month now. Because of finals and training for my new job, I haven't had the time to write all that much, but I enjoy posting things, and I'm pretty proud of this one. 
> 
> The prompt was "I don't want to be alone right now."

Aziraphale couldn't tear his eyes away from the demon, crumpled in a heap on the wooden floorboards. 

Crowley looked like nothing more than a pile of bones, fragile and soaked to his very core. His hair clung desperately to his forehead, the once bright crimson curls splayed out across his skin like a wound. His shoulders slumped over in exhaustion, paired with the limp deadweight of his great, night-black wings, that lay disheveled around him, feathers greedily clawed at odd angles by the torrential rain. Aziraphale could only imagine how heavy they must have been, beating ceaselessly onwards into the night, searching for an outcropping of land where the humans could have fled to, with no success. Aziraphale had seen him collapse onto the boat after hours of searching, and had tugged him away from where the family would see him. 

"I just-" Crawly stuttered through clenched teeth, "I just don't  _ understand. _ " His voice was raw and hoarse, trembling from the endless yelling into the void of the night, calling out to any survivors. 

Aziraphale knew how he felt. 

Aziraphale hadn't screamed when he'd learned of the flood. He'd sat in silence for hours, his mind reeling as he took in the information that Gabriel had so carelessly tossed to him. The world hadn't been around for more than a millenia or so, and yet God had scrapped it like a failed art project, discarding the humans that hadn't turned out the way She'd wanted. Perhaps She'd seen them as a canvas that had held too many false brushstrokes. 

Aziraphale couldn't say it out loud, couldn't agree with the demon who'd puddled at his feet, but he too felt his throat sting with the salt of tears, as he'd watched the bright faces of the humans he'd grown fond of disappear into inky black waters. 

Crowley trembled beneath his painted-on robes, clinging mercilessly to his thin frame. He hadn't ever had much insulation to begin with, but with the miles of endless flying paired with the rainwater, he looked as if he'd nearly frozen to death. The entirety of the bright demon he'd grown to care for had been snuffed like a wax candle, left with nothing but smoky wisps. 

The rain had been frigid, and Aziraphale knew how a rain like that could seep into the very corners of a person's soul. 

The angel snapped his fingers, and summoned a thick woolen blanket. It wasn't much, but it was all his pain-drunk mind could grasp for. He kneeled down beside the demon cautiously.

Crowley's serpentine eyes had shut tightly, the rivulets of rainwater running down his cheeks alongside warmer saline tears, carving tracks along sharp cheekbones and jaw bones, before crawling down the string of his neck. The demon twitched in surprise as Aziraphale's hands curled around his shoulders with the warm blanket, as if he were expecting a blow of some sort, instead of soft palms against his arms. He welcomed the warmth of the fabric, and leaned into the touch. 

Aziraphale knew better than to attempt to start a fire on the Ark, the damp wood and humid air rendering any attempt futile at best, a fire hazard at worst. He could only summon as much warmth to the spread of his hands as possible, as they rubbed the cloth up gentle arms, trying in vain to pull the murderous rain from the demon's frail skin and bones. Aziraphale felt not unlike one of the human mothers he'd met, drying off a child after a bath, or soothing them after a tumble into the river. 

Crowley's wings were soon tugged from their current plane of existence, allowing Aziraphale to press the blanket between the demon's shoulder blades, where his hair continued to deposit great rivers of rainwater along his spine. After tracing up the ridges of the curve of his back, Aziraphale stilled for a moment, allowing Crowley to fall back against the angel's front. The entire movement transpired with less resistance than he'd expected. Perhaps they were both much too worn to fight back against their better natures. 

Aziraphale brought the blanket to the demon's hair, gently absorbing the water from feather soft curls. He tried not to think about the dreams he'd had of the demon, where he'd been able to run his hands through the same red waves, dry, and warmed by the sunshine. He felt the demon curl into his shoulder, selfishly seeking out the warmth that the angel seemed to radiate like a roaring fireplace. 

"They didn't deserve it, Aziraphale," he hissed, though all of the venom had been milked from his words. "I don't care what She says. None of them deserved it." 

Aziraphale stayed silent. He gently pulled the blanket over where Crowley's robe exposed his chest, and tugged the demon into his lap with one swift motion. Together, they leaned against the walls of the great boat. 

They both knew better than to acknowledge their proximity. 

"There were  _ children, _ Aziraphale,  _ babies.  _ You can't tell me that  _ fucking babies  _ deserved to be  _ drowned for their sins. _ " 

Crowley had stopped fighting his sobs that had settled deep in his waterlogged core.

Aziraphale just held him, and kept his mouth from forming the words of agreement that settled on the tip of his tongue. 

"Your robes are soaked, my dear," he said instead. "You'll freeze if you don't change into something dry." 

Crowley's eyes opened sluggishly, and Aziraphale was finally met with the familiar golden hue that haunted his daydreams. He fought back the tears that threatened to spill over as he saw such lovely eyes filled with such torment - such  _ pain.  _ Aziraphale wanted to steal the demon away, to keep him hidden where God's wrath couldn't reach him. 

Crowley snapped his fingers, but nothing happened. 

"I-" he choked, setting his hand down in defeat. " _ Angel- _ "

Aziraphale quieted him gently. "You're  _ exhausted _ , Crowley. Let me?" 

The demon nodded weakly.

Aziraphale quickly miracled him into dryer - and warmer - robes, while banishing away the rest of the rainwater. Crowley finally ceased his shivering. 

They lay there in silence, comforted only by Aziraphale's miraculous warmth, and the never ending sway of the Ark. Aziraphale listened to the shallow sounds of his companion's breath, a small part of him terrified that the shaky gasps would cease. He traced over Crowley's arm gently, his fingers barely brushing the soft skin through the blanket. 

Aziraphale's mind filled once more with questions he'd never ask aloud, tinged with rage and sorrow. How could they excuse such a brutal execution? Who decided which humans were worth saving, were worth dying? Who could allow so many innocent lives to be stolen from the Earth that they'd worked so hard to build? 

Then he thought of the demon in his arms. The sweet, kind, passionate demon, and wondered how he could fall, while so many heartless tyrants still flew in Heaven's upper circles. What could Crowley possibly have done to warrant his downfall, when he had shown more mercy, more love than anyone he'd ever met? He loved the humans like they were his own, and he'd fought tooth and nail to try and save them, only to watch them gasp for air in a merciless ocean. 

Aziraphale held Crowley tighter in his arms. 

They lay there for what could have been mere minutes, or long, painful hours. Aziraphale watched as the demon was lulled into a gentle slumber. 

Swiftly, he pulled the demon into his arms. Aziraphale was for once glad of his strength, as he made his way to the makeshift bed he'd created only a few hours ago, before the demon had fallen at his doorstep. 

He set him down carefully, and tucked the blanket up the fragile bones of his neck. 

As he pulled away, he suddenly felt the clench of thin fingers against his wrist. He turned to meet golden eyes, wide with terror. Aziraphale felt as though he'd been struck in the chest, his air stolen from him so viciously. 

"Please, don't-" the demon gasped. "Please stay. I don't want to be alone." 

Aziraphale felt the already shattered pieces of his ineffective human heart crush into grains of sand beneath his touch. 

He lay himself down beside him, watching as the demon quickly crawled into his arms. Aziraphale met him quickly, wrapping himself around the thin frame of his enemy, holding him tight against his chest, as if the rain were to try to steal him away once more. 

Suddenly, Aziraphale was a guardian once again, shielding the once ferocious demon with his own body, protecting the being who'd been reduced to soft tremors and frigid skin. 

If it were another time, perhaps, Aziraphale would have relished in the feeling of Crowley's body atop his. He would have nestled his lips into the curve of his neck, and whispered soft nothings to him, as their breath intertwined amongst air that was not damp and icy as the breath they currently shared, but warm, and soft. 

However, that time hadn't come just yet. Instead, they lay together in silence, trying to force themselves into dreaming of something other than the terrible sound of rainfall against the sturdy wooden boat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Check me out on tumblr at writing-mostly-probably!


End file.
